


seventeen

by UniversalSatan



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Self-Reflection, neil's like There but also Not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 03:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18274724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversalSatan/pseuds/UniversalSatan
Summary: There's a rejection letter in his hands.Everything's amounted to nothing, hasn't it?





	seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> this is really a vent fic. thats it. (for bits of it). i know im supposed to be writing letters to my dearest beloved (please read it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18218189/chapters/43100270) it's my pride and joy and definitely meant to be read more than this) but i had a feeling id end up writing something like this (bad intuition) and here we are. didn't put major death in the warnings cause neil is already dead (todd's in his last year at welton), but theres also the usual smoking, as well as depressive thoughts and a smidgen of self harm. edit: i went back to edit the burning mistakes lol because this got a LOT more attention than i expected oof thanks yall
> 
> also it wasnt initially intentional but then i put in a lot of anderperry angst so have fun w that lol

There's a rejection letter in Todd's hands, and he can slowly feel his world crumble around him.

It wasn't like this event wasn't forseen. Ever since Neil's death, it was as if the largest pillar in his foundation had been knocked down, stressing everything he had been building for his future — and then even more pillars were consequently knocked down. Keating's sacking was definitely one of the bigger pillars, as well as Charlie's expulsion. Being forced to room with Cameron due to the absence of Charlie and Neil was more like a weight being stacked on his already-tipping structure.

The eventual collapse took time. At first it was difficult, cleaning up the rubble and forcibly stuffing chipped rocks back into their deformed origins. When Todd first heard of Neil's death, he rushed back to their room, ransacking everything he could of Neil's. Mr. Perry wouldn't notice. He didn't even notice how he drove Neil to his own death. Todd still kept a chest full of Neil's belongings with him at Welton, never daring to let anyone else investigate it. 

Somehow, though in utter mental ruins, Todd managed to look okay from the outside. He grew terribly sick for at least a month after Neil's death, but the rest of the Dead Poets grieved too much themselves to notice the state Todd was driving himself into. With Cameron's betrayal and his coercion for Todd to do the same, Todd could not physically bear to even be in the other's presence for a while, spending all of his hours escaped to the library or the Indian Cave. It wasn't until their junior year that he could stand Cameron on the other side of the room, having found all the best excuses to ignore the boy at all costs.

Luckily, the rest of the Dead Poets were bearable to stay around. They stayed tight knit to each other, having blamed Cameron for their coerced compliance and therefore excommunicating him from the group. Though Todd missed the Dead Poets Society how it was, that's not to say he didn't love the remaining few. Pitts could always find some way to make him laugh, even if it took a bit of warming up. Meeks was always there to lend him a hand in his studying, even if there was little he could do to assist his suffering grades. Knox was probably the happiest overall, still escaping death threats from Chet for having stolen Chris' heart but nonetheless becoming warmer towards the group — almost like some guiding parental figure that Todd currently lacked in his life.

Even with the help of his friends, however, Todd still suffered greatly from both the shock and depression of losing his most significant role models —no, _friends_ — so suddenly. His personality withdrew and his grades plummeted. Though his parents could barely see the reason as to why Todd was so affected, he was still forced to see a shrink, who only seemed to care about their paycheck rather than any of Todd's issues (which was completely fine, because if Todd had genuinely tried to explain anything, he would probably be labeled as homosexual or something even worse and would completely destroy his chance for a future whatsoever). Thus, Todd drew everything in and closed himself, shielding himself from whatever else the world would try and throw at him.

Ah, yes, a homosexual. That was probably another factor in the entirety of Todd's stress.

Because with Neil's death, Todd had time to think.

Too much time.

And it was too late that he realized he loved the boy.

Todd loved Neil more than he could fathom into words. Neil was the one who gave life to Todd, who showed him another way of being, and yet Todd couldn't give anything back except for a few roses and a prayer. Even now, the pain would unbearably relapse, suffocating and drowning him wherever he was. Sometimes Todd would still turn, still glance over a shoulder, having sworn to have seen the shadow of chestnut hair and brilliant eyes.

But here... here... everything that Todd had tried... tried to make it despite what he had against him... was all useless in the end.

He amounted to absolutely nothing.

He was worthless.

Pitiful.

Unwanted.

Todd stared at his rejection letter for a while longer, reading the typewriter print just to see what other bullshit apologies Columbia was pulling to let him down softly. He knew they lied through their teeth while saying that he was outstanding competition — if he really was supposed to be, _then why was he never even considered for the waiting list?_

So he had shown "promise". _And where had that gone?_ Todd knew he was "promising" when he first arrived to Welton, so where was that all now? 

Was it really Keating's fault?

_Was it really Neil's fault?_

Resisting the urge to tear up the letter then and there, Todd stuffed it in his pocket, not even bothering to refold it. _Guess the 25% of Hellton students that didn't make it into Ivy Leagues had to come from somewhere._ There was almost a smug satisfaction that came with the fact that he'd gotten in nowhere, having not applied for smaller colleges due to only looking at the list his parents presented him with. Hell, it was all the universities his brother had been accepted to. Maybe this time, Todd's parents didn't care enough to bribe the schools for his admittance. _Not like he cared anymore._

Todd scavenged around his belongings, grabbing a few items and his cloak before sneaking out of his dorm.

What did post-secondary even mean to Todd? What about prestige? What was he even interested in?

 _Poetry_ , his mind carefully offered, which was true, but Todd felt more than ever that all of his writing was worthless, having somehow declined in quality along with his state of mind. What use would it even be to study poetry for the next four years?

What would he even do now, now that his future came to a terrifying halt just past graduation? 

All he could see ahead of him was void. _Maybe there wasn't supposed to be anything there at all._

Todd laughed emptily. _Like he really cared anymore._ He trudged into the forest, cursing when he realized he forgot to bring his flashlight.

Walking through the forest was actually somewhat calming for him. The air was crisp and fresh and let him clear his mind. Civilization left the wilderness untouched and let Todd escape his troubles just for a while. Taking a deep breath, Todd made his way into the Indian Cave.

The Indian Cave was empty. It was never meant to be empty, and yet it always was whenever Todd paid it a visit since opening night of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Shrugging his cloak and items onto the ground, Todd dug out his rejection letter from his pocket again.

Anger. Inexplicable, inevitable anger. He couldn't even bear to read the letter again — he already knew what was in there. Burning tears brimmed his eyes and overflowed, just beginning to release the frustration of his realization.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Emotion was coiling uncontrollably in his gut and could not find a release, so Todd stomped around, swinging punches at the cavern wall.

He swung again.

And again.

And again.

Stepping back and falling on his ass, he wiped at his eyes, telling himself that it was enough. It was odd how he could barely even feel the stinging pain this time, probably due to the chilliness of the evening and the toughness his knuckles had acquired. Only his left fist bled a tiny bit, having been slightly more delicate than his right.

Todd dug through his belongings that he had brought, unearthing a box of matches. Desperate to get one out despite the shaking of his hands, it took a few tries to finally light one. Barely registering that it was gradually nearing his finger, Todd brought it close to his rejection letter, letting a corner of the paper catch and light. Satisfied, Todd let it rest on the old campfire spot, watching Columbia's apology blacken and shrivel into ashes.

Now that the material source of Todd's problems had disappeared, he found his cigarettes, lighting one from the flame of his rejection letter. Sitting back, he smoked for a while, watching the bright flame gradually diminish until there was nothing left.

"That was probably the most spectacular failure of an unmanned flying rejection letter. Didn't even make it off the ground."

Todd looked up. Neil Perry was smiling across from him.

Also smiling, Todd scoffed at his mirage. "Idiot; it already flew here by air mail."

Neil shrugged. "Maybe it drove here, how would I know."

Pause. Todd's knuckles were beginning to ache. 

"Is this where I give up?"

Neil didn't answer. Todd almost thought he disappeared, but he was still sitting across from him. 

"I don't think so," the other answered.

"But you did."

"I had no other way out."

"That's an excuse and you know it."

More silence. And then: "So you know a way out, don't you."

"I don't want to."

"But you have to."

"Why?"

"Because you have to live."

Todd grimaced. "Because you didn't?"

"If you can't live for yourself, then live for me. Give me another chance."

"So should I start up acting again?" Todd laughed, avoiding the severity of the promise. Neil rolled his eyes.

"Or write me something. Write me a play. Read it to me. Tell me everything."

"My writing has gotten worse."

"You've just grown harsher on yourself."

Todd refrained from answering by taking a drag of his smoke. 

"Everything's falling apart, Neil. Everything's already fallen apart. It's useless."

"Mistakes are meant for you to grow."

Todd barked out a laugh. "Mistakes? _Where did I go wrong?_ I was even set to be roommates with you — everything was out of my control. Grow, my ass. I've got nothing left to grow from."

"Then start from the very beginning."

" _What_ , like you?"

"Not like me. Like what I would do."

"What would you do... run away?" The more Todd dwelled on the idea, the more appealing it sounded.

"Becoming something of your own magnitude, becoming something at your own pace."

Todd didn't say anything.

"You have potential, Todd. Just not in some pretentious university. You just can't see it yet."

The last embers of the letter had gone out, and the Indian Cave was dark with the little moonlight it spared. Todd reached his leg out to the last of the letter, digging the ashes into the dirt.

"Thanks for the fresh roses."

Todd looked up. "You like them?"

"They're my favorite."

"Mm. I'll try to visit more often."

"Thank you. It gets lonely when you're away."

 

"Neil?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"I love you."

 

Todd butted out his cigarette, and when he looked up again, Neil Perry was gone.

 


End file.
